by Alma Boykin
Széchenyi took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, in these times—”
“Did you not?”
“I, your Majesty, that is to—”
István did not see the Emperor move. One moment he sat, the next he loomed in front of Zoltan Széchenyi, his curved hands resembling a HalfDragon’s talons, eyes almost glowing with fury. “Did— you— not— swear?”
The man gulped, his usually bass voice squeaking, the words falling over themselves in their haste to escape. “Ah, yes, your Majesty, I so swore, for myself and my House, but that was before the war and before the Slavs and Romanians—”
“Schweigs dich.” The force of the whisper carried it to the ends of the empire and back. “You are, for now, the Head of House Széchenyi. You are responsible for your House. You are responsible for the abuse of the Saxons and Romanians on your lands.” The Emperor’s voice shifted timbre and István took a step back without realizing it. He glanced at Rudolph. The Archduke’s expressionless face bore a sheen of perspiration from the effort of channeling the Powers’ and House’s energy, which flowed through himself and his cousin. István risked lowering his shields and felt something shifting, watching through the cousins’ eyes. “You are why Romanian spies have been found near the Jakobeny mine in Bukovina, a mine now within bare kilometers of falling into Russian hands. A mine that produces almost half the empire’s manganese, without which we cannot make steel weapons. You are why the Romanians are threatening to break their treaty, and why Romanian nationalists have begun pressing for autonomy once more.”
Josef Karl stepped back, moving as swiftly and smoothly as a panther. “You are the empire’s chosen leaders, privileged and blessed above all others. You alone have the Emperor’s ear day or night. And you fail.”
The quiet words struck István harder than a physical blow would have. “You fail your people and ours. You fail your oaths to us, to the holy church, to your own Houses and those who depend on those Houses. This is not the time for dissention, for separatism, for sects and nations. Our people are starving and dying, and you take advantage of the war for your own pocket grudges and spites. And we will not permit it.” No one dared to move as he walked between them. “In peace we tolerate feuds and spats, poaching and cliques, because that is the mortal condition. Not now. Now we fight for our very lives. The vultures are circling as we speak, planning to divide the empire. Even our allies salivate at the prospect of snatching Silesia, Galicia, the Tirol and Trieste and Transylvania from us, of splitting the empire into nations that they can make dance to their will like puppets.”
Fire and brimstone rained down with those quiet words. Even though he knew he’d not done any of those things, at least not knowingly, István wanted to drop to his knees and beg for mercy.
Josef Karl continued, “No more lying, for we know some of you have, in order to force refugees out of your territories and onto the crown lands. No more blaming the Jews or the Slavs, or the Ruthenes or Croats, for your failures and lack of preparation. No more setting aside special treats for House benefit while others on your lands go hungry.” Felix ducked, as did a few others. “Until the war ends, you will live up to your oaths, God grant you the strength. We do not ask for saints, we ask for men and women who do their duty.” He stopped in front of István and turned to the side. “I must look men in the eyes and explain why I am asking them to die for my House. You can do no less.”
Emperor Josef Karl returned to his seat. “None of what I have said will leave this hall unless you fail me. Our Lord commands mercy and blesses the merciful and the peacemaker. He also drove the moneychangers out of the temple using more than just his voice.” István shivered.
The Emperor’s tone softened, and István saw Rudolph’s color starting to return. “Now. We are aware of the sacrifices many House members have made for our empire. Some of you have served in our armies, some in other capacities. Your service will be remembered with gratitude and, God willing, rewarded when the war is done. And I am remiss at not congratulating you, Count Eszterházy and Prince Wetzel, on the new additions to your families. And Duke Starhemberg, best wishes for your forthcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the three murmured in near chorus.
Rudolph cleared his throat, making several people jump. “His Majesty wishes to speak with,” he recited ten names, give or take, “privately at three. The others are welcome to rest and take refreshment until you are called.”
Since he did not belong to the first group, István relaxed as much as his uniform would allow. Josef Karl left, and footmen appeared with drinks and tea. A discreet door opened beside one of the mirrors, leading to a very modern WC. István made use of the facility, as did several others, and then returned to the mirror hall. Four other concealed doors had opened, allowing access to side chambers more suited to sitting and conversation. István heard raised voices from one, and snarling in German and Croat with Latin interjections. He decided to go elsewhere.
He found Count Sergeant Kirstofer Aleman-Dietrichstein in a blue chinoiserie room. The Head and War Lord of House Dietrichstein-Ost wore civilian clothes—an afternoon suit with cutaway coat—and he saluted István as he entered. “My lord colonel.”
István returned the salute. “Thank you, please, be seated if you wish. Here we are equals. Truth be told, you outrank me by what, six months?”
Kristofer smiled a little. “Not quite that much, perhaps.” The smile faded. “Allow me to offer my condolences on the death of your father. I was with my regiment and could not attend the memorial. He was a good man and will be missed.”
“He was and is. Thank you. How are things for you?”
“Not easy, but we are fortunate compared to some. I understand that the Houses in Galicia have been displaced completely?”
“I do not know, although from what little I can find, they never had a great presence there or in Ukraine. I’ve been cautioned against ‘looking’ for them. The Power of Galicia is behaving oddly.”
“Is it?”
“It was the last time I ventured to look that way, but I’m staying well clear now. It makes the Matra uncomfortable and that is enough of a warning.”
The stocky, prematurely greying former NCO blinked, not hiding his surprise. “You can feel other Powers? I’ve not met anyone who could.”
Really? I thought we all had that ability, touch one and sense all if we allied with one. “I cannot contact them, and a few I have no wish to even brush, but I can sense if there is a Power and make out its, well, mood?”
Kristofer acknowledged the difficulty. “I am not certain even Old Drakonic has the words to describe the Powers.”
“Hungarian and German certainly do not, although I’ve been tempted to use a few choice terms from time to time.”
The conversation turned to milder topics as Johann von Hohen-Drachenberg and Duke Ernest Jindrich Zibulka z Kolovrat entered. The two older men, deep in conversation in German, nodded to the earlier arrivals and finished their discussion with, “That is, God willing, if he survives.”
Duke Ernest waved one forefoot. «From your lips to God’s ear. I’m sick of funerals and black stationary.»
A few minutes later Felix Starhemberg stormed into the room, interrupting István and raising eyebrows and whiskers from the others. “How dare he accuse me of favoring the Croats on my own lands?”
«Because you are marrying one?» Duke Ernest inquired with a languid wave of his indigo tail tip.
“No, Rudiger says I am pushing Croats ahead of Germans to manage the manganese mines in Bosnia, even though my House is just a part owner and not in charge of administration.” Felix snarled, the caught himself. “Well, that is not a topic for the moment.”
“Not unless you want the wrath of the Emperor called down on us again,” István said.
«No thank you. You did notice who is absent, I presume?» István and Felix and Kristofer exchanged glances as they tried to recall who Duke Ernest might be speaking of.
<
br /> Hohen-Drachenburg counted on his fingers, eyes up to the light-blue ceiling. “That odd House, the small one down where the Danube brushes the Croatian mountains near Belgrade. The one with the little larceny problem.”
Now István recalled the House in question, and he smothered a snort of derision. Small larceny problem? They made Hungarian cattle raiders look like the Little Sisters of the Poor.
Duke Ernest nodded and waved his tail-tip as he sat on a blue-silk covered chaise lounge. «Indeed. And now they are no more. They broke their oaths shortly after his Majesty’s coronation and provided shelter for British spies. More than shelter, I suspect, but I do not have the access I once held. And they are no more.»
The Catholics in the group crossed themselves, and everyone paled. István had never thought about the consequences of breaking his oath to the empire, just took them for granted. Apparently his Majesty intended to abide by all parts of his vows. The blue-and-white room felt very cold all of a sudden, despite the heat of the day. He wasn’t the only one affected, either. Felix appeared positively ghost-like, and the tip of Duke Ernest’s tail gave away his discomfort at the news. István had a sudden craving for a shot of something hard and strong, like that nasty plum brandy from Croatia.
Finally Drachenberg cleared his throat. “I understand congratulations are overdue, Eszterházy?”
István smiled. “Not overdue, my lord. Little Erzsébet arrived in April. The christening was family only, and we refrained from making a formal announcement and holding a celebration in light of, let us say, ongoing events.” He sighed a little. “Although Lady Marie is already planning Erzsébet’s wedding.”
The men made sympathetic or fearful noises, depending on the eligibility of their offspring. «I have a grand-nephew who might be suitable, assuming his grandmother finds Lady Erzsébet meets her standards.» Duke Ernest’s weary tone suggested considerable doubt.
“I believe that we will wait at least until she is weaned before making any binding contracts, Your Grace,” István said.
That brought chuckles and nods. The days of cradle betrothals had passed, thanks be.
“Your lordships.” They all turned as a footman appeared, his tailcoat trimmed in silver braid. “His Majesty wishes to have a word.”
The men filed out of the room. Duke Ernest led the group, based on both rank and seniority. His family had been in Moravia since the eighth day of Creation, or so the Chronicles suggested. István had some doubts, but they did go back at least to Emperor Charles IV. István and Felix brought up the rear. Prince Wetzel joined them, walking beside Duke Ernest, his fourth cousin.
To István’s surprise, Rudolph did not attend his cousin. He’s probably collapsed in a chair somewhere, as few reserves as he seemed to have the last time I saw his Grace. How long can he buffer before he burns out? István wrenched his thoughts back from his speculations just in time to bow. Josef Karl, more relaxed, sat in a smaller throne in a reception room decorated red-and-dull-gold.
“You may rise.” They did so and Duke Ernest and Prince Wetzel sat, flipping their tails over their forelegs with an air of dignity and gravitas. “We would rather praise in public and chastise in private,” the Emperor began, “but the situation does not permit our preferences to be honored.” He waited for them to acknowledge the comment with nods. “We summoned you together because all your Houses include peoples of differing nations, Hungarian, Bohemian, Slovak, Italian, Croatian, German—and Bavarian.” Josef Karl nodded to Count Kristofer, who nodded with a wry smile. “Thus far your Houses have kept the peace, for which we are most appreciative. You are also allied with the strongest Powers, except for Duke Starhemberg, who has his own difficulties to deal with.”
Josef Karl met each man’s eyes in turn. “You must continue as you have been doing. Already we have received word that the British and French are making offers of independence and recognition as separate states to the self-proclaimed opposition-in-exile governments of Bohemia and the Croats, as well as offering Galicia to the Russians and the Poles-in-exile. It is likely that they have also given the Tirol, Veneto, and Adriatic Coast to Italy. Or would if they had the power to do so.”
Felix shook his head a little.
“You doubt our words, Count-Colonel Starhemberg?”
“No your Majesty, they fit all too closely with the rumors circulating among certain malcontents around the army. I doubt the willingness of the Croats to welcome Italian overlords, given their fondness for the Hungarians and current Italian nationalist agitations.”
“As I recall, your Majesty, when Italian nationalists tried to foment disturbances in Trieste in February 1914, they suffered a painful rebuff at the hands of the local people,” István said, thinking of his honeymoon.
“Trieste petitioned our ancestor to come under the Habsburg aegis in the 1300s,” Josef Karl confirmed. “Any claim Italy makes is, at the very least, questionable. However, that does not stop them from making such.”
The Emperor took a deep breath. “It is our desire that you do all within your power to dissuade those within and around your Houses who would define themselves by language or distant ancestry, even if your great-great-great-grandfather did descend from a Magyar princess and a magical eagle.” He gave István a knowing look, which then shifted to Prince Wetzel. “Or from the constellation Draco by way of the Roman legions.”
Prince Wetzel sniffed, ears twitching as his whiskers fluttered up and down. «Your Majesty, my ancestors made no such claim. It is well known that we were tossed out of the Garden of Eden after that damned serpent hissed foul calumnies about us.» The others chuckled, and even Josef Karl smiled a little, as Duke Ernest sighed aloud, his body language suggesting that the prince had been dropped on his head at birth and never recovered.
Josef Karl sobered. “There are also rumors that the British, in particular, wish to eliminate the True-dragons from their place in society.”
The men stared at him in shock. “Your Majesty, that’s unconscionable!” Graf Johann von Hohen-Drachenburg protested. “They are our brothers and sons, wives and daughters, faithful members of the Houses. Will the HalfDragons be next?”
The Emperor’s raised hand stilled the growls and hisses. “We do not venture to ask what nastiness the British intend. We do know that at least one House in northern France has been extirpated, with only the human members spared, and even they are now scattered to the four winds. Of the Power, we can sense nothing.” He looked straight at István, one red eyebrow raised.
“Your Majesty, I have not sensed anything through the Matra. I confess I have not looked either, given the warnings I have received through House Habsburg and the Power of the Matra, as well as my own House Healer. Galicia lies too close to House Sárkány for me to risk extending myself to look to France.”
“Indeed, you are trapped between Galicia and Pannonia, Count Eszterházy, a position we do not envy your having.”
You don’t envy me? That makes me very nervous, Your Majesty. Very nervous indeed. But István kept the thought to himself, only saying, “Thank you for your understanding, Your Majesty.”
“And thank you for your work for the benefit of our people. All of our people.” Josef Karl looked at the group again. “House Habsburg’s resources are strained, as you well know, but if there is anything we can do to assist you, ask it. And so that you are the first to know: we have started a new program for the children of the cities. We are establishing summer outings and farm stays, so that the oldest are able to leave the apartments and heat for fresh air. And they will provide labor in exchange for their stays, so there is no talk of shame and charity.”
Duke Ernest raised a forefoot. «Your Majesty, that is an excellent idea. I know farmers in my House will be glad of summer help.»
“On my lands as well, Your Majesty,” Felix said.
“I suspect my people can take a few, if only to help harvest stones. We get a fresh crop every spring, or so it seems,” Drachenberg sighed.
«No wonder the Drachental is so well known for its soups.» Wetzel teased.
The Graf leaned forward and gave Wetzel a long-suffering look. Unrepentant, the rose-colored True-dragon flipped his tail tip straight up, then let it drop again.
Josef Karl lowered his hand from his mouth, as if he’d been hiding a smile. “We see why our late uncle, God grant him rest, called you the most irritating Guardian within the empire, Prince Wetzel.”
«It is a title I am honored to have earned, Your Majesty. The competition is quite fierce.»
Well, Wetzel also managed to dance the diplomatic tightrope within the Foreign Ministry, act as guardian for his nephew, and serve as House archivist, István knew, so he had the right to be irritating on occasion. He’d also fought against the Germans in the 1867 War, one of the few True-dragons in the front lines.
Count Kristofer raised his hand and was acknowledged. He shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “Your Majesty, is there anything that can be done about the black market in ration cards? My people have discovered several caches of them, all for high-demand goods such as butter and meat, a few with military priority markings on them.”
“We are trying to reorganize the ration system so it better meets the needs of our people without damaging the Army. We are aware of the deceit and abuse, and are trying to put safeguards into place. And it is not the Jews or Bohemians who are the source of the fraud.” His majesty shook his head a little. “Of all the things in our lands, ration card abuse is the most evenly distributed among all the peoples. Hunger strains even saints to the bending point.”
“Amen,” someone murmured.
István returned to Nagymatra with much to think about. In fact, so lost in thought was he as the cart pulled up to the front of the hunting lodge, that he did not notice the long pink-and-grey shape stretched out in front of Lady Marie’s chair until she called to him.